


blood

by birdjay



Series: Blood & Teeth [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Blood Drinking, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Top Steve Rogers, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 05:31:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21049112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdjay/pseuds/birdjay
Summary: “Oh,” Bucky says, mouth falling open. He loves it when Steve manhandles him. Loves it when he uses that strength to get Bucky exactly he wants him, when he holds him down and takes what he wants.“Oh yourself,” Steve says, right up against Bucky’s neck. He leans in, kissing softly, faint presses of his lips, before adding a soft nip or two. Bucky groans, shutting his eyes. Steve waits a moment, dragging it out, before sinking his teeth into Bucky’s neck.





	blood

**Author's Note:**

> this was beta'd by the lovely [roh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rohkeutta/pseuds/rohkeutta). she's phenomenal -- go read all her work if you haven't already. 
> 
> this is a sequel to THE TURNING, but it takes place years after that fic. you really don't need to read the first fic to understand this one. any questions, let me know.

Bucky’s sharp teeth scrape up Steve’s throat, leaving little red lines in their wake. Blood seeps up slow, like molasses, thick smudges of it joining the mess already there. Steve huffs out low moan, tossing his head back further to give Bucky more room. 

“You taste so good,” Bucky murmurs, licking his way across Steve’s adam’s apple. He could stay here forever, tasting his mate. He knows without having to look, that his mouth is stained red. He lets his tongue dart out to clean his lips. All that he tastes is Steve.

“Wh-what do I taste like?” Steve asks, stuttering as he shifts against the wall, just enough that he can sneak a hand onto Bucky’s waist. Bucky grunts as he sinks his fingertips into his hipbone. He always forgets how strong Steve is now, after taking the bite so well all those years ago. He’d gone from a skinny little thing to a huge slab of muscle. Bucky had done that to him, had made him stronger, healthier. Pride swells under his breastbone. He tries to tap it down -- now’s not the time. 

Bucky drags his open mouth across the faint wounds he’d left in Steve’s skin, sucking just enough to bring more blood up for him to taste. It wells up under his tongue, flavor and warmth bursting in his mouth. 

“Honey,” Bucky whispers, dragging the tip of his nose up Steve’s pale skin. “And wine.”

“Mmm,” Steve groans, thunking his head back against the wall. Steve’s all spread out on this wall for him. Just for him. Bucky could eat him alive like this.

They’d drank wine earlier, sweet and cloying, until neither one of them could stand to pretend any longer. Bucky’s sure his glass is still spinning slowly on the living room floor, its contents soaking into the rug. They’d made it as far as the first landing of the staircase before he’d all but tackled Steve, pushing him up against the wall to have his way with him.

The goal had ultimately been the bedroom, but this was just fine for right now. 

Bucky leans in to get another taste, but Steve uses that split-second of distraction to flip them, shoving Bucky into his previous spot. In a flash, Steve’s got both his wrists pinned on either side of his head. In another, he’s pressed himself up against Bucky’s back, hips slotted against his ass. 

“Oh,” Bucky says, mouth falling open. He _ loves _it when Steve manhandles him. Loves it when he uses that strength to get Bucky exactly he wants him, when he holds him down and takes what he wants. 

“Oh yourself,” Steve says, right up against Bucky’s neck. He leans in, kissing softly, faint presses of his lips, before adding a soft nip or two. Bucky groans, shutting his eyes. Steve waits a moment, dragging it out, before sinking his teeth into Bucky’s neck. 

Bucky moans, letting his head fall forward onto the wall. This is hardly the first time they’ve drank from each other like this, but it never fails to rile him up. Nothing else gets him going quite like Steve at his neck, drinking his fill. 

“What do I taste like, then?” Bucky asks in a rough voice. He has to wait for his answer, has to wait for Steve to pull off his neck with a light sucking sound. Steve kisses where he bit, licking and teasing a little. 

“Molten chocolate,” Steve finally answers, rolling his hips forward into Bucky. He’s hard, the thick column of his cock slotting between Bucky’s cheeks as he moves. He thrusts again, teasing, and then lightens the pressure up before saying, “And wine.”

Bucky barely gets the chance to snicker before Steve’s at his throat again, opening another bite to suck at. A moan falls out of his mouth, echoing in the entryway of their house. He widens his stance, shoving his ass backwards into Steve. Steve grinds into him, tightening his grip on Bucky’s wrists. Suddenly, he can’t stand all this teasing anymore. Bucky pleads in another moan, “C’mon, Stevie, will you give it to me already?”

Steve licks at his neck again, probably making just as much of a mess as Bucky did on him. “You want me that bad?”

“Uh huh,” Bucky answers immediately, nodding. His hair, once immaculate, falls forward into his eyes.

“God, you’re such a...you’re so goddamn _ needy _ when I drink from you,” Steve says, lips against the side of Bucky’s throat. He nips, and sucks, no doubt leaving little marks all over Bucky’s skin. They’ll be gone in an hour or two, sadly, but he likes that Steve marks him up regardless. 

Steve teases his fangs down Bucky’s shoulder, moving one hand just long enough to tug at his shirt. “Were you always like this? Even before me? Begging to get fucked the moment someone had their teeth on you?”

Bucky shakes his head. “No,” he answers, softly. “No, this is that _ potential _ I told you about.”

Steve snorts out a laugh, his nose brushing up against Bucky’s jaw. “It’s more than just potential these days, Buck.”

If he still had the ability, Bucky’s sure he would have turned pink. “You’re right,” he admits, wiggling his ass backwards again. He _ wants _, okay? His pants are straining, becoming more uncomfortable by the second.

“No, it’s something more than that, isn’t it?” Steve asks, though by the sound of it, he already knows the answer. Bucky can read him like a book these days. Though he can’t see much of him right now, but that tone of voice -- Bucky knows that tone very well.

He nods again. “Yes.”

“What are we, then?” Steve asks, nipping him sharply. He’s teasing, making Bucky work for what he wants. He gets like this sometimes, all bossy and demanding. Steve likes Bucky to follow instructions, likes to put him in his place.

Bucky moans as Steve rolls his hips into him again. His answer comes out a little stilted because of it. “M-mates,” he says.

“Yeah? That means you’re _ mine, _right?” Steve says, in a grunt. He lets go of Bucky’s wrists suddenly, stepping away from him. He slaps Bucky’s ass once, a sharp sting of pain that shoots up his spine. Steve waits for him to turn around before saying, “Bed. Now.”

Bucky blinks once, and then all but flies up the remaining stairs. He can hear Steve following, just as fast. Bucky slams the bedroom door open, letting it bounce off the wall before leaping at the huge bed in the center of the room. He lands on it with a grunt, quickly rolling himself over onto his back. His hands are flying at the buttons of his shirt, desperately trying to get it off without ruining it. 

Steve is there in a flash, tearing his own shirt off over his head. He tosses it behind him, not caring where it lands. He works at the button on his pants, at his fly, staring at Bucky all the while. His eyes are dark, the normal bright blue disappearing to the very edges. Bucky swallows at nothing, desperately, horribly turned on. 

“If you can’t get those off in the next three seconds, I’m ripping them off you,” Steve warns, letting his pants fall off his waist to puddle at his feet. He’s peeling his boxer-briefs off next, and Bucky’s fingers are slip-sliding over the stupid button fly on his jeans. He gets them all undone, but Steve’s hands are at his waist before he can wiggle out of them. He leans over Bucky, licking into his mouth for a hot wet kiss, distracting him. In one fluid motion, Steve yanks Bucky’s jeans off. They hit the floor with a faint jangling noise.

Bucky has nothing on underneath. He smirks up at Steve. 

Steve leans backward, admiring him. “You do this on purpose?” He asks, running a huge hand up Bucky’s thigh. “What a pretty picture you make.”

“Duh,” Bucky answers, grabbing at Steve’s wrist to tug him closer. He’d preen, but there are more pressing matters at hand. Like how he’s not currently getting fucked into the mattress. “C’mon, c’mere.”

Steve joins him up on the bed, shoving his legs apart enough that he can slot himself between them. He takes one hand and hooks it on Bucky’s jaw, holding him still, so he can kiss him. Bucky opens his mouth to him, tasting his own blood on Steve’s tongue. God, how he _ wants _ him.

They kiss just like that for another minute or two, before Bucky is all but panting underneath Steve. Steve pulls away to give him a Look, before sliding down to trace patterns into his skin with his tongue. He sucks more marks into Bucky’s skin as he goes, large hands pressing against his ribs, his hips. He moves them down, and down further still. Bucky sucks in a deep breath, opening his mouth to plead, to beg for _ something _ when Steve wraps his fingers around his achingly hard cock. 

“This what you want, sugar?” Steve asks, in a low voice. “You want me to touch you here?”

Bucky nods, biting at his own lip. 

Steve strokes him slow, torturously slow, fingers in a lazy barely-there grip. It’s not enough, not nearly. Bucky chokes out a moan, eyes falling closed. Steve keeps the rhythm, up-and-down in an agonising fashion. Bucky opens his eyes again, ready to complain or beg or something, but Steve speaks first.

“You want this, or you want me to fuck you?” he asks, flicking his gaze up from where it had been staring at Bucky in his hand. 

Bucky whines, high in the back of his throat. He wants Steve’s hand, he wants his mouth, he wants _ everything _. But if he has to pick, then, well, “Fuckme, fuckme, fuckme,” Bucky says, stumbling over the words as he says them. He stretches his neck out, presses his head into the pillows to try and thrust up into Steve’s hand. 

Steve chuckles, stroking him a few more times before dropping his hand away. Bucky replaces it with his own for the moment, stroking himself faster and tighter to take the edge off. Steve leans towards the nightstand, rooting around in the drawer before returning holding a slightly-sticky bottle of lube. He opens the cap, and covers most of the fingers on his right hand with a good dollop of it. 

“On your belly,” Steve orders, slapping at Bucky’s thigh with his dry hand. Bucky flips over, quick. He whines slightly as Steve drags him downward a bit, the friction against his cock oh-so-good. Steve presses one hand against Bucky’s left thigh to open his legs further. “Hush,” Steve admonishes. He slides one slick finger down from the top of Bucky’s crack, trailing lube along the way. 

A shiver shakes up Bucky’s spine. 

Steve presses his finger against his hole, barely breaching. It’s torture, the way he’s going about this tonight. Usually he’s not so careful, too eager to be inside, to get going. Not tonight, apparently. No, tonight he’s taking his goddamn time. 

Bucky whines again, shoving his hips backwards, trying to get Steve _ inside _ him already.

“_Please_, please, please,” Bucky pleads, tripping over his words. Steve uses his dry hand to shove his hips back into the mattress, to keep him still. 

“Boy, you’re really begging for it tonight, aren’t you?” Steve asks, finally pushing his finger in further. He strokes him from the inside, moving in and out in small little thrusts. “It hasn’t even been that long. I fucked you good last night, and now you’re…”

“_Steve_,” Bucky says, grinding his face over a pillow. 

“Alright, alright,” Steve says, laughing. He moves his one finger faster, getting him warmed up and slightly loose before pulling out enough to add another. Two fingers breach Bucky, and it’s a good stretch. It could be better, of course, it could be three fingers, or even Steve’s thick cock, but this is good. Right now, this is good. 

Steve stays there, leaning over him with two fingers in his ass for a nice long while, stretching him out, scissoring them inside Bucky and rubbing them over the rim of muscle to get it to relax. It’s torture, is what it is, but Steve’s not being quite so mean about it anymore.

He presses soft kisses to the curve of Bucky’s ass as he works. The sweet gesture sends Bucky’s stomach flipping around inside him. It only makes him want Steve more, the gentle way Steve’s kissing whatever parts of Bucky he can reach. 

“Y’could add another,” Bucky mumbles, moving his face enough out of the pillow to speak. He spits out a mouthful of pillowcase before adding, “Or you could fuck me.”

“Mm?” Steve asks, lips against Bucky’s skin. 

“Fuck me,” Bucky says, a little harsher. He wiggles his ass to emphasize his point.

“Impatient,” Steve admonishes, nipping him sharply before pulling his fingers out. Bucky hears the cap of the lube bottle again, and then a squelch as Steve drips some (hopefully) onto his cock. The bed shifts as Steve moves, getting up onto his knees. Bucky decides to help -- he pushes himself up onto his hands, sticking his ass out and up. 

What else does he have to do to get his mate to fuck him? He shouldn’t have to outright beg _ again _, but he’s not above that. Bucky wiggles one more, enticing, or at least trying to be. Steve takes a large hand and grips Bucky’s hip bone, holding him still. A whine escapes from between Bucky’s lips. He wants. He wants so fucking bad. 

“Hush,” Steve whispers, leaning over him. There’s a pause, no sound except their faint breathing, and then Bucky feels Steve’s cock right up against him, pushing in. Slick, blunt pressure opens Bucky up slowly, so goddamn slowly. His whine turns into a moan as Steve makes his way inside him. It’s a stretch -- two fingers is nowhere near enough to get him fully ready for Steve -- but it’s one that Bucky relishes. The faint pain turns into a bright, singing pleasure as Steve bottoms out. He’s finally, finally full.

"_Fuck_,” Bucky says, letting his head fall forward onto the pillow underneath him. 

Steve rolls his hips, grinding against Bucky’s ass. Sparks dance up his spine, pleasure shooting down his limbs to tingle at his fingertips. A moan falls out of his mouth, ringing out into the bedroom as Steve pulls out slow, dragging everything out sticky-sweet, like molasses. The rhythm he starts is heavy and slow, nothing like what Bucky really wants. He knows better than to ask for faster, though. Steve will get there when he wants to. 

Shifting behind him, Steve knocks a knee into Bucky’s spreading him out wider underneath him. A hand pushes between Bucky’s shoulder blades and shoves him into the mattress. He falls forward, and the angle changes.

Suddenly Steve’s slow drag is lighting up a spark on every thrust. Bright pleasure flashes behind his eyelids whenever Steve moves. Everything is building now, growing at a nice, steady pace, just like Steve no doubt planned. Motherfucker.

“Oh _ fuck_, Steve,” Bucky whines, mashing his face into the sheets. He pushes back, meeting him thrust for thrust. Steve tightens his grip on Bucky’s hip, one that would have left bruises if they were still human.

“Uh huh,” Steve says, pressing his chest against Bucky’s back. He moves again, sliding one long arm around Bucky’s chest and dragging him up. They’re plastered together, front to back as Steve fucks up into him. Bucky’s toes curl at the easy show of strength. “God, doll, look at you.”

“Hnng,” Bucky moans, throwing his head back onto Steve’s shoulder. It shows off his neck, one long line all the way from throat to cock. Steve groans, slipping a hand down the view, just like Bucky knew he would. The slide of his fingertips forces another ragged moan from his open mouth. Steve curls a hand around him, and strokes him in time with his hips. 

“You look as good as you taste, you know that?” Steve says, snapping his hips up into Bucky again. He’s going faster now, rolling and grinding and shooting sparks as he holds Bucky steady with his free hand. “I think I need another bite,” Steve whispers, sticking his nose into the crook of Bucky’s neck. There’s a sharp nip on his shoulder, and then Steve’s sucking against his skin, drinking while fucking him.

Every time they do this, every single goddamn time, it’s the hottest fucking thing Bucky’s ever experienced. 

He moans, eyes fluttering closed. His own cock is drooling, dripping precome steadily onto the sheets beneath them as Steve tightens his fist around him. Bucky reaches back, grabbing a palmful of Steve’s ass and squeezing.

“Steve, I wanna….I wanna taste you,” Bucky whines, stretching his neck for him. While this position is wonderful, it has one serious problem -- he can’t kiss or lick or bite Steve in return. 

“Mmm, a second,” Steve says, licking at the bite wound on Bucky’s neck. He kisses him there, open-mouthed and soft. It’s sweet, and tender, and completely unlike the harsh rhythm he’s set. Steve fucks up into him for a handful more thrusts, and then suddenly stops. It leaves Bucky feeling strangely lost for a moment, until Steve gets his hands back on him.

In a quick, flashy move, he pulls out just long enough to flip Bucky around onto his back. Bucky lands with a soft _ oof_, eyes wide as he looks up to see Steve smirking down at him. He leans in, and licks his way into Bucky’s mouth before sliding back inside him, easy. Everything is slick -- they move together so smoothly like this. It’s a sweet glide, no friction at all. 

Bucky hooks a leg around Steve’s middle, dragging him close. He wastes no time in sinking his teeth into the meat of Steve’s shoulder, immediately getting a mouthful of honey and wine. Bucky moans against Steve’s skin, a moan that turns into a whine as Steve slams his hips into him again and again and again.

The building pressure mounts, growing faster and faster inside Bucky. He’s climbing, steadily as Steve fucks him into the mattress. He scrambles to get a better hold on his mate, dragging fingers down Steve’s spine in long lines. Steve breathes out a moan, burying his face back into Bucky’s neck. He bites down, and soon everything is blood and sweat and sex.

“Ah...ah...ah _ fuck_!” Bucky detaches himself from Steve’s shoulder long enough to shout. His orgasm hits him like a freight train, barrelling down at him out of nowhere. He spills between them, his cock leaving a sticky trail all over his own stomach. Blood dribbles down Steve’s chest from the wound Bucky left in his skin, two red lines dripping down, down, down. 

Steve doesn’t even pause, just keeps rolling his hips, keeps chasing his own orgasm with his teeth still locked into Bucky’s throat. He sucks hard, sending a shudder up Bucky’s spine. God, it feels good. So fucking good. 

It doesn’t take much longer for Steve’s rhythm to falter, for his hips to stutter as he rocks into Bucky. Bucky wraps an arm around him, holding him tight against him. He shifts, tilting his hips up towards him, clenching down to help Steve over that great precipice. 

Groaning, Steve shivers as he comes, falling forward to rest. He relaxes slowly, one muscle at a time, until he’s one great lump on top of Bucky’s front. Bucky slowly unsticks one hand from Steve’s sweaty back, dragging his fingertips up and down his spine real slow.

“Mmm,” Steve says, after a moment. He pulls his face out from where it had been hidden in Bucky’s neck and blinks down at him. “Hi.”

“Hi love,” Bucky says, a hint of a laugh coloring his voice. Steve’s a mess. His hair is sticking up all odd angles, and blood is dried all around his mouth, thick lines of it dripping down from each corner. He looks a little dazed, eyes glazed and unfocused. Bucky smiles at him, full of love. “You alright?”

Steve blinks a few times, shaking himself, and then nods. “Yeah. Just… a little blood drunk, I think.”

Bucky laughs. “It’ll pass,” he says, running a hand through Steve’s fluffy hair, straightening it out. He lets his hand fall back onto his own chest. There’s no way about it -- “You need a bath, bun.”

“So do you,” Steve says, wrinkling his nose. He touches the edge of the puddle on Bucky’s stomach. It’s tacky, not quite dry. It’s starting to itch a little, too.

“Wanna get one together?” Bucky asks, hopeful. Their tub is big enough -- he made sure of it when they redid the bathroom. It’s a giant copper clawfoot beast of a tub, special made.

“Sure,” Steve says, with a brilliant smile. He leans down, and presses a soft kiss to Bucky’s mouth before rolling off. “Lemme go start it.”

Bucky watches Steve go, naked as the day he was born. It’s a beautiful sight. God, he loves him. He loves Steve more than he ever thought he’d be capable of. They’re _ mates_, for real. All that potential he’d felt all those years ago came true, growing and blooming into something truly special. 

Bucky stays where he is, all stretched out on the bed, content.


End file.
